


With A Bang

by Salustra



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salustra/pseuds/Salustra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Spike goes to bug Angel on the last night before the Apocalypse <br/>Spoilers: Through Angel 5 x 22 "Not Fade Away"<br/>Content: m/m sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Bang

Spike is filled with a rare relaxation and warmth after the poetry slam. It had felt good, letting out all the god-awful verse and feeling the response of the audience. And of course, he is fairly well lubricated with whiskey as well. He knows he should probably go back to the apartment and sleep it off, but he doesn't. He points the car along a familiar path and finds himself back at Wolfram and Hart. A few minutes later, and he's heading up the elevator to Angel's office. 

Sitting at his desk, Angel reads through another report. He's doing his best to look as if it's just another night after just another W&H day, and that he isn't jittery as hell inside. Having spoken to Conner and sorted things with him, Angel is feeling much calmer about what is coming, but he can't help wishing for a few more days to deal with a few more important things. His fractured relationship with Wes, Lorne's disillusionment, Buffy...Spike...

Spike opens the door without knocking. He shakes his head sadly as he sees Angel looking through paperwork. "Pitiful. Just pitiful." 

"Speak of the devil." Angel mutters, frowning at the fact that his thoughts seem to have conjured the younger vampire.

Spike grins and chuckles. "So I'm the devil now, eh?" 

Lifting his head Angel gives him a weak glare. "A devil of an annoyance." 

Spike chuckles again and moves over to the chair across the desk from Angel. He drapes himself as usual, one leg thrown over the arm. "This your idea of a way to relax?" 

Shrugging, Angel returns his attention to the report. "Some of us have a job to do." He says in a monotone, answering by rote.

"Bollocks." Spike gets up, moving around the desk, planting himself on the desk and sitting on the reports. 

"Spike!"

"Wot?" Spike raises an eyebrow. 

"You know what you irritating brat!"

Spike grins. "Been ages since you called me a brat. Makes me all warm and gooey inside, all the nostalgia." 

"Oh shut up." Angel growls. "Little shit." Pushing his chair backwards, he stands and walks over to look out of his office windows.

"Looks like someone din't take his own advice on how to spend the day." Spike leans back on his hands on the desk, legs splayed. 

"Oh like you know what I did today." Angel scoffs. "Just because I wasn't off in some bar..."

"Well you don't seem any more relaxed, whatever you did." 

"For your information," Angel spins around and glares again, more effectively this time. "I *was* relaxed."

"Is that your not-so-subtle cue for me to leave?" Spike takes the glare, answering it with his trademark infuriating smirk. 

"Argh!" Angel turns back around to bang his forehead against the glass. Spike props his feet up in the seat of Angel's desk chair. 

"So what *did* you do today?"

"Nothing that'd interest you." Angel murmurs sullenly.

"Typical." Spike snorts. 

"Oh just..." Angel snaps.

"Just what? Bugger off? Leave you to brood?" Spike's voice is bitter. "M'tired of dancing around you like this. Don't have any more bloody time to waste waiting for you to decide to talk to me." 

"What do you mean dancing around me?" Angel's ire has leeched away and he tries his best to sound ignorant of Spike's meaning. Spike tilts his head, looking at Angel. 

"Even *you* can't be that bloody oblivious. Not even you." He sighs. "Is this how you want to leave it? Us snarking at each other?"

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Angel turns and matches his sigh. "What else can we do? There can't possible be enough time to do anything *except* leave things as they are." Dropping his hands, he looks blankly at Spike, "At least things are better than they have been for a while."

"Yeah. S'not saying much, but yeah. As far as time goes, you got something better to do tonight?" 

"I suppose not." Angel says with hesitation.

"Then for fuck's sake let's at least try." Spike's voice is a little exasperated, a little pleading all at once. 

"Try what exactly?" Angel asks, "We can't exactly bond like we did in the old days can we? A bottle of whisky and a half dozen dead bodies?"

Spike sighs. "That's not the only way we bonded, if you recall." His expression flickers from frustration to a coy look, licking his lips and tilting his head as he subtly shifted his position. 

"W...what?" Angel's thought process screeches to a shocked halt as Spike's meaning sinks in.

"Ah, you do remember." Spike gives Angel a wicked grin as he shrugs out of his duster, letting the leather slide down his arms and onto the desk. "We were always much better at doing than talking." 

Angel is speechless, blinking at Spike. Spike pushes up from the desk, brushing his body against Angel as he passes. He goes over to the stereo system, popping in a CD and forwarding it to the track he wants. He turns back to Angel as the sultry music starts, letting his body start to sway a bit, feeling the music, running his hands down his chest and abs to tease across his crotch, and back up again. 

"Er..." Angel coughs to clear his throat, eyes following the movement of Spike's hands. "What are you doing?" His voice still sounds an octave too high.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Spike replies, as his fingers slide down again, this time hooking under the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up to reveal a sculpted chest and abs. His hands slide over the skin, and he arches into it. His fingers twist and play with his own nipples, his head back and eyes momentarily shut as he moans. 

"B...but...I...you...but..." Angel stammers becoming flustered. 

Spike snaps his head back up, staring intently at Angel for a moment before he pulls the shirt up and off, tossing it aside. "If you don't like it, you can always leave. Or throw me out." He licks his lips. "But you really want to spank me, don't you, like the naughty brat I am?" His hands slide down over his crotch again and he rocks his hips forward. 

Mouth dropping open Angel stares at him as his thoughts stall again. "Spank?" 

Spike chuckles, turning away, bending slightly forward and looking over his shoulder at Angel. His hands move onto his ass, one lifting and smacking on a denim-covered cheek. "Spank." 

"Oh fuck!" Angel's voice is strangled, and he swallows loudly. 

Spike grins wider, then straightens up. He is facing away, and his hands move back to his crotch. Angel can't see clearly what he is doing, but his vampire senses let him hear the faint scratch as each button on Spike's fly is being undone. 

"S...Spike..." Angel half-moans before clearing his throat again. "We shouldn't..."

"Since when did that ever stop me?" Spike's arms flex, and it's obvious from the motions he is stroking his own cock. He moans softly. "If you don't want to do anything, leave, or watch. I'm not stopping." Angel shifts awkwardly, forcing himself to look away from the younger vampire's back. 

He succeeds for all of ten seconds. His body’s betrayal grows worse as he finds himself taking a few steps closer. Spike's motions are causing the jeans to slip down. The upper curves of his ass are visible now, and he moans more loudly, dropping his head back some as he thrusts harder into his own grip. 

Whimpering quietly, Angel takes another couple of steps forward. Spike's breaths get ragged as his hips arch more. He purr-growls out Angel's name. Helplessly drawn forward the last few steps, Angel's fingers reach out to stroke hesitantly at the pale skin visible above Spike's jeans. 

Spike lets out a shuddering breath at the touch. "Please…" He says, just the one word, hanging in the air between them. He presses back against Angel's fingers. 

"Spike..." With a groan, Angel gives in, stepping in to press along Spike's back, his arms coming around to encircle him. Unerringly his mouth finds its place over Spike's jugular, his tongue laving over the faint scars there. 

Spike hisses and moans, tilting his head to give Angel better access to his neck. The touch on his making scars runs through him like quicksilver. "Angel." His own hands leave his cock, reaching back to grab Angel's hips, to grind his ass against Angel's crotch. 

"Oh god." Angel's cock is rock hard against Spike's ass, throbbing with need in his slacks. Spike growls this time, rubbing back harder. The jeans have slid towards the floor, and Spike lifts one leg then the other, kicking them off and stepping out of them. He's naked now; his pale slender body open to Angel's gaze and touch. 

Scraping his teeth once against the skin of Spike's neck, Angel pulls away just far enough to spin Spike around. Spike looks up at Angel, eyes hazing a bit, on the verge of shifting golden. His hands slide over Angel's chest, feeling the muscles under the fine silk of the shirt. He starts working the buttons, baring skin, kissing it as it is revealed. 

Hissing at the gentle kisses, Angel grows impatient and tears open his shirt. Spike looks back up, eyes fully golden now. He licks now over the skin, his blunt teeth finding and teasing one nipple. Growling lightly, Angel cups the back of his head, holding his mouth close to his chest. "God, Spike." 

Spike purr-growls, licking and sucking, his hands moving down over Angel's belly and to his waistband. His hands move to slide over and caress Angel's hard cock through the fabric. "Yess." Hips bucking forward into the touch, Angel's grip on him tightens slightly. 

Spike's fingers start working on Angel's zipper. His hands press inside, and now only the thin material of the boxers separates him from the prize. He strokes, feeling the silk slide against Angel's shaft. He looks up as his mouth moves to the other nipple. 

"Oh fuck yes." Angel looses his hold in order to push his trousers down over his hips.

Spike shifts his own position then, pressing in closer, his fingers hooking the waistband of the boxers and pushing them down. He presses up on tiptoe, up and down, hips rocking, so their hard cocks slide against each other. He looks into Angel's eyes, licking his lips, almost daring him. 

Eyes narrowing slightly, Angel smirks a split second before he brings the flat of both hands down on Spike's bare ass. Spike yelps softly and then moans. He doesn't stop his rubbing; just lets the smacks push him tighter against Angel. "You've been dying to do that since I came back. Spank your naughty brat, bring me back in line." 

"Maybe I have." Angel agrees before another, wider, smirk spreads across his face. "But, I bet, not as much as you've been craving it."

Spike grins back wickedly and nods. "Fuck yeah." 

Chuckling, Angel shakes his head. "I'm sure I don't know why." 

Spike moans and rocks against him again, moving his hands down Angel's back, nails scraping over skin. "Keep going. It will come back to you."

Raising an eyebrow, Angel smacks both cheeks a second time. "Is that so?" Spike cries out a bit and then nods. 

"Yes." His voice drops low and seductive. "It was always this way with us. Pleasure and pain. Me challenging, you asserting your dominance over me. It was how I knew you loved me." 

"It's how you knew I was a kinky bastard." Angel replies flippantly.

Spike's eyes flash just a bit, his mouth tightening. "That too, I suppose." Angel opens his mouth to speak when the phone rings, the shrill sound making him jump.

"Dammit!"

Spike sighs, disentangling himself from Angel. "I suppose you're gonna answer it." 

"I suppose." Angel agrees unenthusiastically. Traipsing over to his desk he answers shortly, "Hello?"

"Ah, Angel. I was just checking in to make sure that everything was all right," Wesley says on the other end of the phone. 

"Yes fine." 

Spike walks over to the bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey, knocking it back. 

"Good. Is there something wrong? You sound strange." 

"No, no, nothing's wrong here." Angel's eyes flicker over to the deliciously bare Spike. "Everything ok with you?"

"Just fine. I'll see you tomorrow, then?" 

Spike prowls across the room, stretching out on his belly on the leather couch. "Yeah tomorrow." Angel's voice wobbles a little as he watches Spike. "Oh er... is Illyria with you? Or somewhere in the building?" He asks, suddenly worried that she's going to descend on his office.

"She's here with me, at Spike's apartment. Have you seen him, by the way?" Wesley asks. Spike stretches and rubs himself, catlike, against the butter soft leather. 

"Um...yeah." Angel coughs. "I've seen him." Angel raises a hand to his chin to check for drool. "I mean he's a uh he's here. With me."

"Ah. Well that's good. I'll let you go then." 

"Er... yes. Ok. Bye." Angel hangs up distractedly.

Spike looks over at Angel, resting his head on crossed arms. "Wesley awright then?" 

"Um yeah, I think so, I mean he didn't say anything was wrong." Angel shift awkwardly, highly aware of exactly how much of a hard on he's got.

"Good." Spike stretches, muscles visible under his pale skin, and he arches up so his ass lifts into the air a bit before lowering again. "Did you want me to come back over there?" 

Swallowing roughly, Angel shakes he's head as he's drawn over to the couch. "No that's ok. You stay there. Right there." Spike chuckles softly and raises his ass again, pulling his knees up a bit. 

Dropping to his knees beside him, Angel reaches out with both hands to kneed and squeeze his ass. "So perfect." He sighs. Spike moans at the touch of Angel's hands on him. His eyes are back to their usual blue as he looks over his shoulder. 

"I'd begun to think you didn't want me anymore." 

"Hmm?" Angel drags his eyes away from the pale globes to meet Spike's gaze. "Huh?"

"Been here all this time, in your face, and you've never made a move." 

Blinking with confusion, Angel stares at him for a moment. "You mean you wanted me too?"

"Yeah, I did. Why d'you think I've stayed here all this time?"

"You said it was because of Fred..."

"Had to come up with some reason to stay when you were trying to send me away." Spike shrugs.

"But...I thought..." Rubbing his fingertips over his brow, Angel sighs, "You kept going on about going to Rome."

"I wanted you to stop me.” Spike chuckles bitterly. “Say something, anything." 

"What was I supposed to say?" Angel asks, a little frustrated. "Stop going on about my ex because she's mine, you're mine? What?"

"Something like that, yeah." 

"Argh!" Angel throws his hands in the air. "I shouldn't have had to." He gets up and starts to pace. "You're still my childe. I shouldn't have had to say that. I shouldn't have had to do a lot of things, _say_ a lot of things."

Spike turns over, looking up at Angel. "So how was I supposed to know that still mattered to you? It hasn't, not for a long time. And then there was Nina." 

"Of course it still mattered! I never said it didn't. It was you who said..." Angel turns and glares across the room at him, his glinting amber with his feelings.

"Said what?" Spike meets his gaze, inwardly gratified that Angel could still get emotional about him. 

Closing his eyes, Angel seems to struggle with the words, or the memory, before he bites out. " _Were._ " 

"Were?" Spike looks back at him puzzled. "What're you on about?" 

"You said - 'You _were_ my sire'." Angel's mouth tightens at the memory. Spike stops, having to connect the words, to remember the incident. 

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I'd just found out you had a soul. After a hundred years of thinking you'd bloody abandoned me and Dru, I found out you had a soul, and that you were working with the bloody Slayer." 

"So...you didn't mean it?" 

"At the time...I may have meant it a bit. I felt betrayed, angry, hurt." 

"Oh." Angel's face falls after the momentary hope that Spike hadn't meant those words seven years ago.

"Oi!" Spike snaps. "You were the one that abandoned me, right? Not the other bloody way round."

"Well what the hell was I supposed to do?" Angel explodes, eyes flying open to glare painfully at him.

"How about tellin' me and Dru? Givin' us the choice." Spike sighs. "I din't wanna do this. We could spend another hundred years rehashing the past and it still wouldn't change a bit of it." 

Covering his face, Angel sighs. "You're right."

"I just don't..." Spike stops, sits up, facing Angel. "I don't want to go to hell like this. It was good between us once. Can't it be like that again? Just for tonight?" 

Dropping his hands, Angel stares at him for a few moments before answering with a small smile. "We can try." 

Spike pushes up from the couch, crossing to Angel. He looks up with a little smirking smile of his own. "Where were we?" 

"Um..." Angel blinks and glances over to where they were stood earlier. "I can't remember." He says, letting his smile widen.

"Mmm." Spike grins, looking at the desk. "Well we'll just have to improvise then." He moves over to the desk, spreading his legs and bending over it. 

Angel's quiet "Oh fuck." sounds from behind him.

Spike chuckles. "I've thought about doing this at least once a day since I go fleshy again. Just coming in and bending over the desk, seeing what you'd do."

A strangled sound comes from Angel's throat as he steps closer. "Do?"

"Yeah. Honestly I din't know if I could still get a rise from you. At least not this sort of rise." 

"Heh." Angel chuckles weakly at Spike's pun. "So...er..."

"So...?" Spike purrs. "Is this good, or would you like me somewhere else?" 

Glancing towards the glass wall separating his office from the dark lobby outside, Angel sheepishly suggests, "Upstairs?" Spike laughs and scoops up his clothes, heading for the elevator. Angel chuckles and shakes his head, moving to follow after him. There were certainly worse ways to spend the night before the end of the world.


End file.
